Fond Memories
by MirrorDede
Summary: Gilbert goes back in time about 70 years, ends up meeting Kevin Regnard as an orphaned baby, and becomes his foster parent until he is taken in by the Sinclairs. Multi-chapter funny-sad crack theorizing about Kevin's past.
1. Year 0

**Summary: **Gilbert goes back in time about 70 years, ends up meeting Kevin Regnard as an orphaned baby, and becomes his foster parent until he is taken in by the Sinclairs. Multi-chapter funny-sad crack theorizing about Kevin's past.

**Rating:** K

**Writer's Note:** I know that they probably wouldn't have had baby bottles back in this time period, but let's pretend, mkay? Because you know you want to read about Gilbert giving baby Kevin a bottle as much as I wanted to write it.

Thanks to total_alias for beta reviewing!

**(1) Year 0**

Gilbert Nightray had never been good at retaining traumatic memories, but his fonder memories tended to stay snuggled around him like a warm coat on a snowy day.

_Where am I?_ Gilbert wondered, lying on his back, looking up at the gray sky and the light flurry of snowflakes. _There was a fight…I ended up in Abyss…how did I get out of Abyss?_

He sat up and looked around. Quickly he sensed that something wasn't right. He was in a city alleyway, covered with an old-fashioned ladies' woolen overcoat. _No one wears coats this style anymore. Unless… _The realization that Abyss might have cast him _back_ in time coursed through his gut like an electric shock.

_Oz! Where is Oz?_

He clambered to his feet and ran out to the street, where a newspaper vendor was hawking the day's news. Gilbert bought a paper and glanced at the date…he was seventy years in the past! Oz hadn't even been born yet. A lonely ache settled into his heart, but then he was distracted…

"Kind Sir?" An elderly woman bowed before him. "'Tis my coat you've got there."

Gilbert looked down at the woolen overcoat he'd stashed over his arm.

"Oh," he tried to force a smile as he handed it back to her.

"I was the one who covered you," she said, gratefully taking the coat. "You're an Unfortunate One, are you not? You dropped out of nowhere, tattered and bleeding."

Gilbert took stock of himself and for the first time noticed he was bleeding from cuts on his hand and cheek. He tucked the newspaper under his arm and dabbed at his wounds with a handkerchief.

The woman continued, her voice sweet and sticky like a motherly school teacher.

"Unfortunate Ones must stick together and help each other," she said, adjusting her headscarf. "Have you a place to stay, Kind Sir?"

Gilbert shook his head and she beckoned him to follow her into a small apartment, which was dark except for where the gray gloom seeped in from the window. As they warmed their hands by the fire, she told him that she had lost her husband but had savings enough to live on. Their conversation was interrupted by the shrill cry of an infant.

The lady disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a white-haired baby in her arms.

"This baby boy, too, is an Unfortunate One," she said, rocking the little one in her arms. "He lost his parents and I'm having difficulty finding someone who will adopt him. You can see why…" she placed the baby in Gilbert's arms. "Red eyes like his are still scorned and feared by some, you know. But you seem like a more kind-hearted sort of fellow."

She went to fix a bottle, leaving Gilbert holding the baby. He looked into his eyes and felt a strange sense of familiarity. The infant looked up at this dark-haired stranger, and his little face scrunched up like he was going to cry. Gilbert instinctively rocked him back and forth, and the young one calmed.

"Well, I see you have a way with babies," the lady smiled as she returned with the bottle. "I'm glad to have some help in looking after him. Sit down and I'll show you how to feed him."

Gilbert sat in a rocking chair, cradled the boy in the crook of his left arm and gave him the bottle with his right. He watched the little lips greedily sucking on the milk and again felt an eerie sense that he knew this little person from somewhere. But the only other person he'd known with red eyes was Break…Xerxes Break.

"What's his name?" Gilbert asked the lady.

"His name is Kevin," she said. "Kevin Regnard."

Gilbert felt his heart drop into his stomach. He looked back at that pale small face, and those two perfect red eyes framed by long eyelashes. The boy stared back at him, eyes full of innocent trust, but then the words of Xerxes Break – the man who Kevin Regnard would grow up to be – flashed into his head from distant memory.

"_You don't need to trust me. Just use me. After all, I'll only be using you." _

Gilbert's eyes blinded with tears he couldn't rationally explain. He tried to steady his shaking hand – the hand that held the bottle for this helpless, unwanted child. _I know what it's like to not be wanted_. When he was able to see again, he saw Kevin's eyes flickering shut. Even in sleep, his mouth continued to suck lightly on the bottle.

_He needs me_, thought Gilbert. _And I want to be needed by him._

**to be continued**


	2. Year 1

(2) Year 1

The elderly woman died in her sleep soon after Gilbert took up residence in her apartment with baby Kevin. The dark-haired man arranged for her burial, and since she had no living kin to lay claim to her estate, he went through her things to sell whatever he didn't need. During that process, he found enough cash stashed in various places around the house that he could feel confident he wouldn't need to worry about working to earn money for a while. So he was left to focus his energy on Kevin, who was now essentially his foster child.

Kevin was just over one year old now, and loved sweets, as any child does. He was not a talkative baby – his answer to most questions was "da?" with a rising intonation that made everything he said seem like a question. He preferred to expend his energy propelling himself around the house in any way he could. He'd just started walking, and Gilbert could hardly sit down to read the newspaper without losing track of the little rascal. He'd think Kevin had climbed into a cupboard to play, and then the next thing knew, the boy was somehow under the table.

As Kevin grew into a toddler, he loved to wrestle with Gilbert and tug on the belt of his coat. _ This kid seems happiest when he's harassing me_, thought Gilbert ruefully, as he tried to take a toy Kevin offered him only to have it snatched back by the young boy.

Gilbert had mixed feelings about being a foster parent. On the one hand, he loved being needed by someone, and Kevin definitely needed him – needed _someone_ – to make sure he didn't crawl out the window and plunge to his death, accidentally stab himself with paring knife, or choke on his food when he tried to cram too much in his mouth at once. On the other hand, the sense of responsibility he felt was at times almost too much. Gilbert was prone to headaches and desperately needed a regular good night's sleep, and that just wasn't possible with a small child in the house.

Most mornings, Gilbert would wake up when Kevin crawled into bed beside him (having long ago learned to escape his bassinet). If he was lucky, the boy would simply snuggle up beside him and fall back asleep, but most days, he would jump on his foster father's chest and poke his forehead with his little fingers, irritating the heck out of the dark-haired man until he resigned to starting his day a few hours earlier than he would have liked.

When they'd been together nearly a year, the snowy season came around again and then it was time to celebrate Christmas. Gilbert fondly remembered the holidays he'd spent with family…the Vessalius family more so than the Nightrays. _Everyone needs a family to be a part of, and for Kevin…I guess I'm it now_. Gilbert took some money from under the mattress and secretly bought two gifts for little Kevin and wrapped them in decorative paper.

On Christmas morning, Kevin woke Gilbert as usual.

"There are presents for you, Kevin," he muttered sleepily.

"Da?" The boy had a curious expression on his face.

After breakfast, they sat in the living room in front of the fire. Gilbert smiled as he watched Kevin opened the first present…a small puppet. At first Kevin seemed confused, but then Gilbert took the puppet in hand and made it speak. The young boy was so enchanted by the puppet, he was too distracted to even open his second present. Gilbert eventually resorted to picking up the second gift with the hands of the puppet and presenting it to Kevin. Those red eyes grew wide at the sight and taste of the pink and white striped sucker with a ribbon around its stick. With no molars yet with which to chew, little Kevin sat on the floor licking the lollipop for a long, long time, until his chin was sticky with pink drool.

**to be continued**


	3. Year 2

(3) Year 2

By the time Kevin was two years old, his personality had emerged in full force. He was not an affectionate child. Occasionally, when he was tired, he would grab onto Gilbert's dangling coat belt when they were out and about, but he no longer came to snuggle with Gilbert in the mornings. The dark-haired man didn't really miss it – he was happy to be left alone to sleep.

Kevin had a bitter, bad-ass scowl on his face most of the time, and the things that made him smile were a source of concern for his foster father.

There was the time that Kevin emerged from playing outside with a cat in his arms. Its arms and legs jutted out in an uncomfortable-looking way as it struggled to get out of the boy's tight stranglehold. 

"New toy," announced Kevin, dropping the cat into the box where he kept his blocks, puppet and ball.

Gilbert froze in horror at the sight of the cat, which quickly jumped out of the box and headed right for his chair. He jumped up on the chair to get away from the cat, his face contorted with fear. Kevin looked at his foster father's reaction and an evil grin smeared itself across his face. Luckily for Gilbert, the cat made a speedy egress out of a nearby window and they never saw it again.

)(

Kevin had a propensity for getting into mischief of one kind or another, and Gilbert was beside himself in trying to come up with useful punishments for the child. He started by simply thinking of how he himself had been punished when he was younger, and vaguely recalled being shut away by himself for days on end once when he had gotten in trouble at Vessalius house. It had been a traumatic experience for him, but he knew Kevin was made of stronger stuff, and thought maybe a relatively brief hour or two in the basement might work out just right.

So one day when Kevin had eaten an entire box of cookies in one sitting, Gilbert picked him up under the armpits, slung him over his shoulder and hauled him kicking and fussing down to the basement. He put him down on the cold dank floor, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.

"This hurts me more than it hurts you," Gilbert said, voice wavering as he endeavored to shut the door to the basement. The memory of Kevin's confused facial expression lingered in his vision when he closed his eyes to take a nap. He'd barely drifted off to sleep when he heard a knock at the window. His eyes flew open and there was Kevin outside the window peering in.

_Futile. It's absolutely futile to try to change this kid._

The next time Kevin was naughty – he loved to yank on Gilbert's hair and was none too gentle about it – Gilbert decided to try his new tactic. He grabbed Kevin and hugged him tightly.

"Annoying!" yelled Kevin, trying to squirm away. "Let go! Annoying!"

"No hair pulling," said Gilbert sternly, using the choppy sentences he'd learned to use since becoming the parent to a toddler. "Be nice. Will Kevin be nice?"

"Kevin be nice! Let go!" the boy said, trying to beat Gilbert's chest with his fists.

"No hitting," Gilbert stated firmly. "Hitting is mean."

After a moment, Kevin's thrashing and hitting stopped. He looked up at Gilbert, frowning. When he was released from the man's arms, Kevin ran into his room, and shut the door. The dark-haired man fell asleep on the sofa, but when he awoke an hour later, he heard strange sounds coming from Kevin's room. When he opened the door, he found the boy was using a stick to hit his puppet and other dolls.

"I kill you!" shouted Kevin to the inanimate objects as he smacked them.

Gilbert's memory brought him a vision of fighting side by side with Xerxes Break – him with a gun, Break with a sword – and he swallowed hard. _The future needs the person who this boy will become,_ he thought. _And_ I_ need the person this boy will become_.

That coming Christmas, Kevin had one large present from Gilbert to open. When the wrapping paper fell away, the boy's eyes sparkled. He picked up the small toy sword in his hand and pointed it at his foster father.

"I kill you!" he said, with a slasher smile on his face.

"Don't kill _me_," said Gilbert, shaking his head. "You _need_ me."

"I don't need you!" Kevin got up and ran into his room and started whacking his toys with his new gift.

Gilbert leaned back in his chair and put his hand on his forehead. _When will he learn? Oh yeah, in about seven decades or so. _He sighed and lit up a cigarette.

**to be continued**


	4. Year 3

(4) Year 3

Once a week, Gilbert and Kevin would go shopping. Three-year old Kevin carried his sword everywhere and was not very helpful with the shopping. The best Gilbert could hope for was that he would behave himself during the outing, but needless to say, the dark-haired man suffered regular embarrassment from the antics of his charge.

At the market, Gilbert would quickly purchase the food staples, cigarettes and other items they'd need to last the week. He knew exactly where everything was and how long he had to buy everything before Kevin would shift into naughty mode. During past trips, the boy had been chastised by the flour vendor for puncturing a flour sack with his sword, and the candy seller for trying to steal a lollipop. "I thought it was mine," Kevin had protested, sulking when the lolli was whisked out of his hands.

One day, the line at the meat vendor was longer than usual and Gilbert resorted to one of his more desperate tactics to try to get the boy to behave – imitating a cat.

"Nyaa!" Gilbert mewed, scaring himself with how realistic his own cat sounds were.

This odd behavior from his foster father normally caused a sadistic smile to creep onto the boy's face, as he enjoyed not only seeing the man act goofy, but also the look of fright in Gilbert's eyes.

But today, Kevin just wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and sulked.

"That certainly is a gruff and grumpy boy, you've got there, Sir," muttered the lady standing behind them in line.

"Yeah, he's a real ray of sunshine," Gilbert muttered sarcastically.

"Would you like a candy, Little One?" The lady reached in to her pocket and held out an orange wrapped candy.

Kevin's eyes lit up and he snatched the candy.

"What do you say to the nice lady, Kevin?"

"Grrr…" Kevin put the end of the candy wrapper in his mouth and pulled, but was struggling to get it open.

Gilbert blushed. The boy was humiliating him yet again with his rude behavior.

"If I may be so bold," the lady whispered, placing a hand on Gilbert's arm to get his attention. "I would like to suggest that you _model_ the behavior you'd like to see in the boy. If you want him to say 'thank you' he has to hear you saying it. And if you want him to smile more, you need to show him your _own_ cheerful face, Sir."

Gilbert nodded to be polite, and tried to force a smile. _Easier said than done_, he thought. He watched Kevin get increasingly frustrated with his attempts at opening the wrapped candy.

"Do you want me to open that for you?" Gilbert asked.

"I do it myself!" Kevin said, pouting.

Gilbert shook his head in resignation.

)(

Kevin's insistence on "doing everything myself" was becoming quite of a problem. Gilbert had heard from various moms he chatted with that this sort of behavior was typical for a child of his age. But having the benefit of foresight, Gilbert suspected this behavior wasn't going to be going away anytime soon. Oddly enough, some of the things Kevin tried to 'do himself' were under the guise of trying to 'be helpful'. The boy especially wanted to 'help' his foster father in the kitchen.

So one typical day, Gilbert agreed that Kevin could wash the dishes after their meal. The boy stood on a step stool with a bar of soap and a basin of water and set to work. From past experience with Kevin's 'help,' Gilbert knew he'd best just sit in the other room or he'd blow his cool trying to micromanage the boy. He went into the living room and sat down with the newspaper.

Several minutes passed, then the sound of water splashing and dishes being rubbed slowly dissolved into silence. Long silence. This couldn't be good. Gilbert stood up and went into the kitchen. Kevin had a slasher smile on his face, a knife in his hand and had cut the soap into little pieces.

"Kevin! That soap was supposed to last us all week!"

He snatched the knife from the boy's hand.

"How did you get this?" _I hid all the knives up high so you couldn't reach them_.

"It's a secret!" Kevin smirked.

"I can't leave you alone to do things by yourself unless I can trust you!"

"You don't need to trust me," Kevin stated flatly.

Gilbert threw up his hands, feeling unable to fight the onward march of time toward the inevitable.

**to be continued**


	5. Year 4

(5) Year 4

It was a rare day that Gilbert could manage to get out of the house on his own. But on one particular day, a neighbor had offered to watch Kevin while Gilbert went out looking for a surprise gift for the boy. He had the notion that he needed to broaden the child's horizons beyond the world of candy and toys, but wasn't sure what would be appropriate and appreciated as a gift, and he was loath to waste money on something useless. The supply of money the old lady had left would last him three more years at best, as long as he wasn't careless with spending.

"He's four years old, you say?" queried the itinerant vendor. "Then he should start to learn how to read and write soon if he wants to be something other than a servant his whole life." The vendor picked up a small book from his cart and showed it to Gilbert. "This story is wonderful for youngsters, and you can have it for only a penny."

Gilbert shoved his hand in his pocket, retrieved a dull coin and handed it over in exchange for the book, which turned out to be called "The Bell and the Cat," one of Aesop's fables.

Noting the title, it was with some reluctance that Gilbert offered to read it to Kevin. The boy sat still for all of two minutes, getting antsy as soon as the mice in the story called a meeting.

"Boring," said Kevin, hopping off the sofa. "Let's play hide and seek instead!"

Gilbert cringed. He hated that game.

"I'll be the ninja…you count to ten…bye!" Kevin ran off to hide, while Gilbert reluctantly counted to ten as slowly as he could, wondering if he could possibly light up and finish a cigarette before it was time to look for the boy.

"Ready or not here I come!"

He took a long drag on his cigarette, got up from the sofa and headed for where he'd last heard noise: the basement. Gilbert was not a big fan of basements. In fact, they pretty much gave him the creeps. So he only spent a few minutes looking, and when he couldn't find the boy, hollered,

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Silence. So he went back upstairs and called out again. Still silence. Then he went outside and called around the neighborhood, but couldn't find him.

Gilbert was starting to panic. He rushed back down to the basement, sure he _must_ be there…and screamed,

"KEVIN!"

"What?" came a small voice from behind a small door.

"Kevin! Where are you? Come out right now!"

The door swung open and Gilbert peered inside. There was Kevin surrounded by bottles of wine, which evidently had been left by a previous resident. His upper lip was stained red and he'd spilled wine all over his shirt as well.

"Y-You've been drinking…_that_?"

"Mm huh…it tastes funny, but kinda yummy." Kevin wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"H-How much did you drink?"

Kevin shrugged and Gilbert snatched the bottle out of his hands. At least a third of the bottle was empty. Kevin climbed out of the niche and the dark-haired man looked for any signs of drunkenness, but there were none.

)(

Over time, the book vendor's words, _"He should start to learn how to read and write soon if he wants to be something other than a servant his whole life"_ ate away at Gilbert's sense of responsibility as a foster parent.

One day he was trying to teach the boy how to write his name with a fountain pen, but Kevin was more interested in poking holes in the paper with the pen's metal nib.

"If you never learn to read or write, then you'll always have to rely on someone else to do your work for you!" _Oh wait._ Gilbert smacked his forehead with his palm, thinking of his years spent as Break's subordinate and all the work he'd always shuffled off on others.

"Someone else can do my work for me," said Kevin.

"I thought you wanted to do everything by yourself and not rely on anyone?" _I've got you there, _thought Gilbert.

"I want to do the things that _I want_ to do," announced Kevin, pouring the contents of the ink bottle across the paper and watching it seep in. "And you can do the things _I don't want_ to do."

Gilbert jumped up from his seat.

"Why did you dump out the ink!" he cried. "Clean it up!"

"No…you can do it," Kevin said, putting down the pen and ink bottle and walking into his room.

Gilbert grumbled as he capped what was left of the ink and threw the ink-stained paper in the dustbin.

"Selfish, spoiled brat."

)(

Eventually, Gilbert did find a book that Kevin was interested in. It was a book about King Arthur and the knights of the round table, which he found on a high shelf he'd neglected to clean after the old lady had died. The book contained a folded letter, which when Gilbert read he learned that the book was a gift from one Regnard to another…Kevin's parents? He wasn't sure. _That's right, Kevin came from a family of knights…of course they'd have an interest in King Arthur_.

Kevin would sit with rapt attention while Gilbert read to him from this book and soon began fancying himself a knight during imaginary play. Gilbert would watch him sword fight with one of the neighborhood boys. Sometimes he smiled a little when he watched the bravado and swagger with which Kevin fought. But then the sad reality hit him with the force of a thousand bricks. _Kevin, you are going to grow up and be an excellent sword fighter. You'll even become a knight. But then you're going to make an illegal contract with a chain and end up killing 116 people. And there's not a darn thing either you or I can do to change that_._ Or is there?_

**to be continued**


	6. Year 5

(6) Year 5

One day, when Kevin was five years old, he and Gilbert went to market to buy the week's rations as usual. While Gilbert was busy looking over the options available in the vegetable stall, Kevin saw a couple of younger children sitting on the side ledge of a horse-drawn carriage and went over to see what they were up to. When Gilbert finished buying what he needed, he went over to see what was going on.

_These children must be nobles_, thought Gilbert, looking at their manner of dress and the style of carriage. The boy had unusual auburn colored hair and the girl looked like a three year old version of Sharon Rainsworth. Both children were fanning themselves with decorative fans.

"You dress like a boy but you don't act like one," Kevin taunted the auburn-haired one.

"I _am_ a boy," the youth scowled as he muttered, then hid his face with the fan.

"Boys don't _fan_ themselves," Kevin declared, raising his sword. "They use _weapons_."

"A fan _is _a weapon!" laughed the little girl. "Do you want to see?"

"Fine," said Kevin, standing tall, ready to dodge anything that came his way.

The girl hurled her fan in Kevin's direction. He ducked to the side and the fan hit Gilbert in the knee.

"Ow!" Gilbert clutched his knee and scowled.

"Miss Sheryl!" came a voice from inside the carriage. A genteel looking lady looked out. "You are not to practice your harisen skills on whomever you like. Why you have no idea who this gentleman could turn out to be!" She looked at Gilbert with an apologetic expression.

"I was trying to hit that annoying boy over there," Sheryl pointed at Kevin.

"Manners, dear," said the lady. "Rainsworth women must be ladylike and kind."

"That boy was mean to Rufus," Sheryl said, pouting.

"Boys will be boys," the lady said, with a tone of resignation in her voice. "Now come back in the carriage. We're leaving."

The two children scrambled back in the carriage and the driver cracked the reins on the horses. While trying to cope with the shock of having just seen Sheryl Rainsworth and Rufus Barma as small children, Gilbert didn't notice that his dangling coat belt was caught on a hook on the side of the carriage. When the carriage moved forward, he was jerked off his feet and before he knew what had happened, he was being dragged along the road. He grabbed onto his coat belt and tried to free it, but it was stuck firm, his weight helping to hold it there.

"Stop!" he yelled, feeling the burn of the roadway on his bum.

Suddenly Kevin was there, smacking the belt with his sword. The belt fabric ripped clean through where the hook had held it, and Gilbert was free. His face dusty, he looked up at Kevin.

"Thanks," he said, exhaling. _Is that the first time I've ever told him that?_

Kevin stood there staring at him, his sword in front of him like a walking stick.

"It's my duty to protect you," the boy said.

"Your duty? To protect me?" Gilbert couldn't tell how much of his confusion came from the sudden shift in Kevin's demeanor and how much came from the fact that he'd just been dragged about twenty feet through the dirt.

"My duty," Kevin declared, clicking his heels together and standing up straight. "As a knight!"

"Uh, o-of course," Gilbert stuttered, pulling himself to his feet.

Gilbert spent the walk home pondering things. He wondered if Kevin had managed to overcome some of his selfishness after all, in his quest to be helpful and knightly, or if this magnanimous behavior was in fact just a cover. _After all, he still needs me, so of course he'd try to protect me. Right? _By the time they made it back to the apartment, Gilbert was suffering from a nervous stomach again.

)(

One night, after a day of frequent coughing, Kevin flopped down on the sofa next to Gilbert and put his head on the man's lap, which was certainly unusual.

"Are you okay?" Gilbert asked Kevin.

When he got no response, he put his hand on the boy's forehead.

"You've got a fever," he announced, barely hiding the concern in his voice.

"Hmm," mumbled Kevin. His eyes flickered shut, and a soon after, the boy was asleep, his breathing audibly shallow. Nervous tension gripped Gilbert's stomach.

_Fevers can kill children_.

He looked down at that innocent, sleeping face.

_If Kevin dies, those people he's destined to kill…would live. But…I don't want him to die…_

Gilbert's shoulders shook and his eyes filled with tears.

_I don't want to be alone_.

**to be continued**


	7. Year 6 end

(7) Year 6

Gilbert looked in the mirror one morning and saw his first grey hair. _I'm thirty years old_, he realized. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to pluck the hair out.

Kevin meanwhile, was six-years old and significantly more mature than he'd been even a year ago. It was at the age of six that some people of the era thought that children ceased being children and were ready to leave their family and take on a new role in society.

The white-haired boy had been carrying groceries for a neighbor and had earned enough small change to buy himself a shiny new sword. It was a _real_ sword – not a toy, he insisted – and practiced with it every day.

One day Kevin was outside parrying with a neighbor boy, when a carriage lost a wheel and stopped within view. Gilbert looked up from the steps and put out his cigarette. The boys resumed their swordplay, at first taking no heed as a tall noble stepped out of the carriage to look at the wheel.

"Master Sinclair," said the carriage driver. "We'll have that wheel back on straight away."

Gilbert stood up, thinking the name 'Sinclair' was one he should know. And then he remembered it in a flash of memory that drilled a nervous jolt into his stomach.

The hub that had held the wheel in place rolled out to where the boys were play fighting, and they ceased their duel. Kevin picked up the hub that had come lose from the wheel and handed it to the nobleman.

"Why, you're a helpful lad, and a comely one, too," said Master Sinclair, taking the wheel part from Kevin and handing it to the carriage driver. "And I see you've got some skills with the sword."

"You Sir," said the carriage driver to Gilbert. "Would you be so kind as to help me get this wheel back on?"

In a bit of a daze, Gilbert helped the carriage driver hoist the empty carriage up, so that the footman could put the wheel back in place.

_I can't let him go with the Sinclairs, _Gilbert thought, sweat drops beading up on his forehead as he watched Master Sinclair speak with Kevin. _That man will die, and Kevin will be so upset…he'll make a contract with Albus to try to save him…_

"Is this boy yours?" Master Sinclair asked Gilbert just as they finished the task.

Gilbert nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow.

_He'll kill so many people, but then lose the whole Sinclair family anyway..._

"I'd like to hire him on to work in my household." He put his hand on Kevin's shoulder and the boy looked up at him, eyes shining with an admiration that Gilbert had never seen directed at his own self.

_He'll be filled with utter despair…_

"U-Uh, ummm," Gilbert stuttered and bit his lip.

"He'll get room and board," Master Sinclair continued, looking fondly at Kevin, "he'll be taught to read and write, ride a horse and be coached in the code of chivalry. And of course we'll help him refine his sword skills."

Gilbert saw a rare twinkle in the boy's two, perfect little red eyes, and a proud smile on his face.

_He'll lose his left eye.._.

A deep feeling of loneliness washed over Gilbert and shook him to the core.

"I'll come for him tomorrow around 9 o'clock in the morning," continued the tall noble. "Can you have his things packed up and ready to go?"

_But if I don't let him go, Xerxes Break will never exist_.

"C-Certainly." Gilbert ran his fingers through his hair and swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll s-see you in the morning."

)(

That night they packed up Kevin's things in a trunk: clothing, a few toys, the King Arthur book he loved, and of course, his sword.

"Why are you crying?" Kevin asked Gilbert, whose face was contorted and wet with tears.

"Nothing."

"You're not supposed to cry." Kevin put his hands on his hips. "You're not a baby."

"I-I guess I'll miss you."

Kevin looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking.

"But I'll see you again, won't I?" he asked.

"Probably not for a long, long time." _You'll be older than me next time you see me_.

Gilbert flumped down on the sofa and lit a cigarette, his hands shaking. He exhaled a smoke-filled breath, looked at his charge and saw the slightest chink of concern in the boy's expression. Gilbert's expression softened.

"You'll be fine. You're a tough kid."

Kevin let a slight smile cross his face, then bid his foster father good-night.

Gilbert took a deep drag from his cigarette. _It's his fault I started smoking in the first place._ For a moment, he considered what his life would be like without Kevin around. _It will be lonely, but_ _I can sleep whenever I want…I can go out at night…get a job to pass the time…_ He exhaled and slouched down into the sofa. _There's no sense in changing the past_, he told himself_. It just puts you on an unfamiliar road to the future._

)(

The next morning, Gilbert and the footman lugged Kevin's trunk out to the carriage. Kevin, dressed in his finest, marched proudly over to the carriage and was greeted by one of the servants of the Sinclair house that had been sent to accompany him to his new home.

He clambered into the carriage, and then turned around to wave good-bye. Gilbert raised his hand to wave back and thought he saw a brief flash of terror in Kevin's eyes, but the white-haired youth quickly covered it up with a look of firm resolution. He would be a knight of the Sinclair house, and there was no changing it. The carriage pulled away, down the long familiar road, and Gilbert focused his eyes on the tracks left by the wheels, until his eyes were too filled with tears to see them.

_I may not see you again in what's left of my lifetime_, thought Gilbert, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. _But I'll never forget you_.

**END**


End file.
